The City After Yes

She stood up and promised to stay

with one person come what may.

I watched her face the second before—

that hesitation, that open door

where she could still turn back

before the words, before the fact

locked in.

Then she locked it.

The mother cried. The room

adjusted itself around her new

status. Everyone bearing witness to her

becoming someone's wife instead

of just hers.

But I drove home and nothing

had changed. The street looked

the same. The traffic moved

the same. The coffee shop

was still there, still serving

people who weren't

getting married today.

Her forever didn't matter

to the world. It only mattered

to the room full of people

who'd been paid or obligated

to watch her say yes.

The city moved around her promise

like water. Like it could weather

her love without shifting.

Like one person's forever

is too small to make the world

take notice.